


In the gaps between words

by purple_cube



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve catches a glimpse of the real Natasha. Written for the prompt “Avengers, Black Widow/Hawkeye, everyone knew sparring was just the warm up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the gaps between words

 

They don’t move officially into Stark Tower, but one by one with the exception of Thor, each of them steadily increases the time that they spend there. They split into natural partnerships, like attracting like, much as Steve remembers from high school days. The two scientists, Banner and Stark, discussing problems and hypothetical scenarios that he’s pretty sure they’re making up in vain attempts just to outsmart each other. And the two spies, Romanoff and Barton, each knowing the physical limitations of their bodies and trusting the other to push them to within a millimetre of that line and not beyond.  
  
Of course, after enough time, shared meals and alcohol – not to mention the “contemporary history” lessons that Stark insists upon – they become Bruce and Tony, Natasha and Clint. And he drifts between them, not aimlessly but willingly, absorbing everything they have to offer and giving himself up in return. In this world that still seems so alien to him, they are his constants; his immovable pillars in the midst of a tornado that he’s not sure will ever lose its strength.   
  
The gym that Tony installed on the second floor proves to be Natasha’s favourite go-to place. When he doesn’t see her all morning, Steve makes his way there, ignoring Tony’s half-hearted reprimand that he’s probably going to walk in on her screwing Barton and get his ass handed to him on a plate as a result – _and not in the good way_.   
  
Behind the fancy equipment that tells him how fast his heart beats when he runs but doesn’t go anywhere is a large empty space that is the size of his own room. There, he sees her, fists encased in red boxing gloves and held high and strong. Opposite, Clint has his own hands blanketed in blue and raised to counter her stance, the concentration on his face visible even from the other side of the large room.  
  
Steve stops where he is, partially hidden behind a treadmill, mesmerised as a new bout begins. He can tell that neither of them is holding back as they dance furiously, trading blows both above and below the belt. After a minute, the intensity seems to slip into yet another gear as Natasha ducks low before lashing out with her bare right foot as she rises. The swipe dislodges Clint’s balance but doesn’t quite topple him, and he manages to stumble away, chuckling as he steadies his weight once more. They don’t speak – Steve’s seen this enough times to know that they never do – but he is starting to pick up on their non-verbal exchanges now, and catches Natasha’s triumphant smirk as she circles her opponent.  
  
A flurry of punches follows, both of them hunched and holding their guards admirably between attacks. If he had to judge, Steve would probably give Clint the upper hand in this moment – but then both men are surprised by a sudden injection of fire in their female colleague. She bobs and weaves before landing a series of jabs and uppercuts on Clint’s cheeks. And then she stiffens, leans back and swipes at his chest with her left foot. Clint manages to grab the foot as he falls backward, seemingly in slow motion. The manoeuvre only results in him groaning loudly twice, once when his back finally levels with the ground, and for a second time when Natasha’s weight settles against his groin, one leg stretched past his shoulder, his hands still clasped around the offending foot, and the other straightened in the opposite direction. She’s facing Steve now, and he witnesses the return of her victorious grin as she looks down at her fallen challenger.  
  
He can’t see Clint’s face, but watches as his body relaxes away from fight mode, every muscle loosening in a slow, meticulous sequence that starts from his shoulders and ends at his feet. And maybe he _is_ as naïve as Tony thinks he is, because as he studies Natasha’s face, Steve concludes that this isn’t about sex. It’s about something far more intimate.   
  
Because just for a split second, he sees into the mind of Natasha Romanoff, sees her without her mask for the first time. He knows that she's decades older than she looks, but right now she seems even younger than the mid thirty-something that people take her for. He sees the innocence that she once held, as well as the hopes and the dreams and the belief. He sees _her_.   
  
She raises her gaze then and glances across the room, but she doesn’t react immediately when her eye catches his. Instead, Steve watches as the mask is gradually donned, like a rogue cloud moving across the sun.  
  
Still, he can’t help but give her a smile, one that tells her what he saw – and how privileged he feels to have seen it. A smile that tells her that one day he hopes that she will trust him with even the smallest fraction of what she bestows on Clint.  
  
Turning on his heel, he leaves them, making a mental note to persuade Tony to disconnect the cameras in the gym.   
  
*  
  
 _In the gaps, between words_  
Are the things that really intrigue me  
It‘s the gasps and the sighs  
That say more about what’s inside you  
\- Maximo Park, Girls Who Play Guitars.

 


End file.
